


Touch Point

by opalmatrix



Category: Alliance-Union - C. J. Cherryh
Genre: Comrades in Arms, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Signy's new to <i>Norway</i>, and Jurgen can't pretend that he doesn't already know too much about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevenall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenall/gifts).



> From one Graff fan to another. No beta!

The small, bleak room was sometimes used for briefings when _Norway_ was underway. It was handy to the bridge and had a good-sized wall monitor that could be used for training presentations or ops monitoring, but the doorway was awkward to access when _Norway_ was docked. For that very reason, it was often empty.

Jurgen Albrecht Graff, recently promoted to the lofty rank of lieutenant commander, leaned back in one of the cushioned chairs, his feet on the scuffed tabletop, and watched the traffic on the exterior monitor view. A merchanter was coming into dock, and lighters and skimmers came and went from the docked ships and Mariner Station. The lights on the space vehicles blinked and twinkled, and the hazy white light of Van Maanan's Star bathed everything that faced spinward.

Graff was just starting to relax and feel sleepy when the door to the corridor opened. He swung his feet down and turned to face the intrusion, resigned to the interruption of his quiet time.

"Lieutenant Commander Graff?"

It was a woman, lean and dark-eyed and on the edge of rejuv, judging by the lines of her face. After a moment, Gaff's memory supplied a name: Signy Mallory, recently transferred from ECS3 and put in charge of the ridership crews. "Got it in one, Commander," he answered, and got to his feet: she was Command 5 to his Command 4.

"As you were," she said. "Both off duty, aren't we?"

"Yes." He resumed his seat, but there was little point. He'd never recapture his calm with her in the room.

As the assistant XO, he'd seen her personnel records when she came aboard: recruited from a freighter crew, an exemplary record as a rider co-pilot until a crack-up that had killed the pilot and blinded the armscomper. She'd brought the crippled rider back to the carrier and taken a temporary assignment assisting _Germany_ 's rider crew command, but old memories and old antagonisms had made that an uneasy posting for her. Still, her actual work had been without flaw. 

_Norway_ 's rider crew commander, old when he started his assignment at the start of the war, had wanted to step down. _Germany_ happened to be in port when they arrived at Mariner. A transfer was arranged: Villanueva was on his way back to Earth and retirement, and Commander Signy Mallory stepped into his shoes. Graff could feel her tension from where he sat, and no wonder.

"I'm surprised you aren't on station," said Mallory. "Don't you have leave?"

"I'm not set to enjoy it yet," he said. "I'd like a solid night's sleep first."

She thought about that, pulling out a chair and sitting down herself. "You're the junior XO. I've made you a lot of work, have I?"

"You and those eleven recruits we got from _Germany_. Some of them are merchanters, some stationers: lots of readjustment. And you had three transfers into rider crews."

She nodded. "Li, DeMelo, Soni."

He was impressed. "How are they working out?"

"Too soon to say, mostly, but Soni's my pick for assignment to that vacant longscan slot on _Frey_."

He nodded, inwardly pleased by the choice. "She wasn't being challenged where she was. It'll be a long time before a senior slot opens in carrier longscan, although accidents have been known to happen."

"I'll have to see whether her aptitude scores back me up when she's back aboard. Meanwhile, DeMelo's my pick for major troublemaker and a quick trip back to the juniors. If we don't leave him behind on station instead. "

Graff's stomach clenched. "What happened?"

"I just pulled his leave. He was hassling Pickens about his reaction times. Horrible attitude for a neo, and Pickens doesn't need any help in the nerves department. DeMelo's just this side of a spell in the brig, actually. He's banking that I won't do it, being a neo myself."

"I'll pull him the minute you give the word. All three were told that this transfer is an honor, even if there's no actual promotion yet. How's Pickens doing?" 

"I sent him to station, with orders to have a good time. Put his crew members in charge of making sure my orders are carried out. If his times are still off when we pull out, I'll be asking for some advice."

Graff let out the breath he was holding. Mallory was making the calls he'd make himself, given the personnel involved. "How about you? Getting the support you need?"

She studied him a moment, wary now. She was his senior in rank, but he'd had years more experience in the Fleet. Likely she knew it. "That's the tipping point, isn't it? Ask too soon, I look weak. Let situations get out of hand, and I look reckless. I reckon I've still got things in balance."

"Sounds like it. When are you going on station yourself?"

"Tell the truth, I'm not sure I should. Not after the trouble I just had."

"Feel like taking advice?"

"If it comes without strings, I guess so."

He smiled. "No strings. I'd take at least a partial, if I were you."

"Feel like explaining?"

"You've just proved you're hard-nosed. And none of the rider crews would argue with your call on DeMelo: they were probably longing to beat the snot out of him themselves. Now you need to show you're human. Taking a day or two aboard ship to tie up loose ends, sure: that shows a good attitude for a neo commander. But staying aboard the whole time? That shows a lack of confidence and possibly a tendency toward ass-kissing. Go out there, buy some drinks and keepsakes, be seen going to a sleepover with someone. They'll like you the better for it."

She gave him a one-sided smile. "I'm with you until the sleepover. I've been with this ship too short a time to know who'd be a politically wise choice."

"As rider crew commander? Anyone of officer 4 up to just short of the Old Man."

"Like you, maybe."

Graff opened his mouth but nothing came out. She watched him a moment and then laughed without any humor. "Sorry to put you on the spot, Mr. Graff. I'll take your strategy under advisement."

She rose to go. But Graff had seen that momentary droop to one corner of her mouth. New ship, new messmates, one crew member dead, one gravely injured, the other left behind. No peers within her own area, and her first trial shot had missed its target, apparently. Hell of a moment for anyone, let alone for one of the few women in the Fleet to have reached such a rank.

"Ms. Mallory?"

She turned back at the door, one eyebrow raised. Her features were strong and regular, her movements lithe but precise.

"Meet me at Kepler's, two days from now at 1700, and I'll buy you a drink. A welcome in, if you like."

"And?"

"And we can discuss rider crews. And leave times past. And whatever else you like."

"'Whatever else' covers a lot of territory."

"Yes. I meant it to."

This time, the smile involved her whole mouth. "I'll take you up on that, Mr. Graff."


End file.
